124 recipes. Page 5 of 6
Traditional drinks and bar snack recipes
The tea uses pitted, dried cornelian cherry flesh: dark red-purple, deeply wrinkled and soft, not whole berries with the hard stone still inside. Even pitted fruit can hide the odd stone or stem, so it gets picked over before rinsing. Fifteen minutes on low with jujubes and ginger turns the water red.
The malt water is left to stand until the sediment sinks, and only the clear top is poured off; heat the sediment along with it and the punch turns cloudy. When the rice grains start to float they are lifted out and rinsed in cold water, and the remaining liquid boils again with sugar and sliced ginger. The ginger is never strong, just a slight warmth at the very end.
At two parts soju to five parts tonic, each glass holds 60ml of soju and 150ml of tonic, which is why the bitterness of the tonic and the sharpness of lime arrive before the alcohol does. Cucumber slices pressed against the inside of the glass slowly scent the drink as it is poured. The syrup is optional; without it the glass is dry, with no sweetness at all.
Young pine needles steeped over low heat with jujubes and ginger give a clear, resin-like pine scent. Longer simmering does not make that scent stronger, only more astringent, so the brew stays under 20 minutes.
Somaek, short for soju plus maekju (beer), started as a bomb-shot habit at Korean drinking tables, and this version tidies it into something closer to a highball with ice, lemon juice, and a lemon slice. At one part soju to three parts lager, beer still carries most of the flavor while soju adds strength. A splash of soda water lowers the alcohol and sharpens the fizz.
No milk, no condensed milk. Eight grams of black tea steep for four to five minutes in just-boiled water, the leaves are strained out, sugar is dissolved while the tea is warm, and cold water goes in before it chills in the fridge. Boiling the leaves for a darker color only makes it astringent. Loose tea is weighed rather than counted in bags because bags hold different amounts.
Astragalus, angelica root, cinnamon and licorice simmer with jujubes on the lowest heat for 50 minutes or more, giving a brown, bittersweet brew with a distinct cinnamon note. Honey is dissolved in after straining. The instant ssanghwa powder sold for mixing with water is not a weight-for-weight stand-in for these dried herbs; if you are using a powder, follow its own package directions.
The mugwort, a grassy Korean spring herb, is blanched only briefly, so what comes through is its green aroma more than its bitterness. Blended with frozen banana and yogurt, it makes a thick, pale green smoothie.
The mugwort powder is first worked into a thick paste with a little lukewarm water. Whisked into warm milk a bit at a time, it spreads into an even jade green with no lumps. Condensed milk and honey sweeten it, and if mugwort is new to you, start with a little less powder.
With soft, warmed glutinous rice cake sitting on top of hot mugwort milk, this is closer to a spoonable dessert than a plain latte. Dark brown sugar gives the herb's bitter edge a deep, molasses-like sweetness. The rice cake firms up as it cools, which is why it is served right away while everything is still warm.
Strawberries crushed roughly with a fork and left under a sprinkle of sugar for five minutes give up enough juice to become a syrup. It goes into the bottom of an iced glass before cold milk is poured slowly down the side to keep a red layer under a white one. Stir with a straw and the pale pink milk carries bits of strawberry you can chew.
Half the watermelon is blended and strained, and the other half is scooped into balls to float in the bowl. The strained juice has to be properly cold before the milk goes in, or the pink base can separate. Lemon-lime soda is poured in just before eating, along with strawberries and blueberries.
It needs a night in the fridge, about twelve hours, so make it the day before. Cinnamon sticks and ginger go down to low heat with the lid on as soon as the water boils; a hard boil makes the punch bitter. The dried persimmon is not added ahead of time but floated in each cup, where it soaks up the punch and softens as you drink.
Rice pressed into the bottom of a pot until it forms a golden crust, then simmered with water, brown rice, and glutinous rice, gives a cloudy, toasty grain drink. Everything depends on how far the crust goes: golden means nutty depth, but any burnt patch spreads bitterness through the whole pot.
Cooked corn kernels are sautéed in butter for about two minutes, simmered in milk and blended fine. However smooth the blend looks, the corn skins survive it, so the latte goes through a fine sieve once before it feels silky. White pepper goes in only in the smallest amount, and super-sweet corn gives a more natural sweetness.
Black tea is steeped extra strong with cardamom, chilled, and poured over ice, then topped with milk and condensed milk so brown and white layers form in the glass. The strength is deliberate: as the ice melts, a normal brew would fade, but this one still tastes of tea at the last sip. Cardamom adds a gentle spice that rounds off the tea's tannic edge and keeps the result from tasting like just another sweet milk tea. Stir it before drinking and the creamy sweetness spreads through the whole glass.
This juice lives or dies by the tomatoes. Underripe ones give little but sourness, so let them ripen at room temperature rather than in the fridge. The basil goes in right before blending, and the juice is seasoned with salt and pepper, so it drinks savory rather than sweet.
Burdock root, sliced thin with its skin on and dry-roasted until it browns, gives this tea its toasty aroma. The slicing matters as much as the roasting: thick slices hold their flavor back.
Mint is pressed just enough to release its oils, and lime is used two ways, as muddled wedges for pulp and as juice for clean acidity. A pinch of salt makes the lime taste brighter than simply adding more lime would.
Ripe watermelon blended and passed through a fine sieve loses its fiber and small seeds, leaving a clean, light juice sharpened with lime and lifted by soda water. Half the mint is pulsed in for a few seconds and the rest floats on top, so the drink smells of mint both in the glass and above it.
Steamed glutinous rice and nuruk, a traditional Korean fermentation starter, ferment in a shady spot for more than a week until clear wine rises to the top. Unlike makgeolli, which is strained with the solids, only that top layer is gently drawn off, so yakju comes out a transparent gold. During fermentation it gets one stir a day with a sanitized paddle. The drawn-off wine is bottled, rested in the fridge for two days, and poured cold into small cups.
Dried bitter melon is bitter and dried jujube is sweet, and simmered in equal amounts they make a tea that leans neither way. Dried tangerine peel goes in only sparingly, since a lot of white pith makes it astringent.
Lotus root sliced thin and steeped slowly over low heat lets its starch out bit by bit, so the tea looks clear but has a slightly silky body. Five minutes in cold water after slicing rinses off the surface starch and keeps the tea from going cloudy. Most of the sweetness comes from the jujubes in the pot.
Dried lotus leaf has a quiet, soft grassy scent, much gentler than most Western herbal teas, and roasted brown rice fills it out with a toasty grain note. Simmered too long, the tea turns astringent, and too much rice syrup buries the lotus aroma.